


A Necessary Truth

by petrichor3145



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr works in a coffee shop, M/M, Shy Alexander Hamilton, Soulmate AU, When you turn twenty you can't lie to your soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrichor3145/pseuds/petrichor3145
Summary: Alexander Hamilton lives in a world in which you can't lie to your soul mate when you turn twenty. He dreads his upcoming birthday because he's already in love with someone. What will he do when he feels the time ticking as his feelings spiral out of control?





	A Necessary Truth

Alexander was perched on the garish green couch in his dorm. His laptop balanced precariously between his legs as he typed at an inhuman speed, trying to complete his PoliSci essay two weeks early. The clock on the wall was ticking incessantly. It had never been more distracting than that night at 2 am.

See, most people thought he never relaxed. Well, he did, but only after all his work was done, from due that day to due two weeks from then. However, his roommate, Lafayette, couldn’t seem to understand it when Alexander explained this to him. 

Alexander looked up as the man lurched into their room, looking every bit as drunk as he probably was. The hair he usually prided himself on was tangled in every direction and he could barely stand, leaning on the doorway for support.

Sighing, as he took in his friend’s haggard appearance, Alexander walked over to him to lend a hand just as the loudmouth said, “Al-xander, you shoulda been asleep by now! You--you stayin’ up late justa wait for me ‘ta come home? Aw-- but still!” 

Alexander paid no heed to the garbled (and hypocritical) words mumbled from Lafayette’s mouth as he pushed the man onto his bed, where Lafayette grabbed a pillow and stuffed his face in it, giggling. Alexander ignored him and plopped into his own bed. 

Lafayette went for drinks and came home dead drunk every Sunday. Alexander himself had gone with him a few times, and the Frenchman was entirely too outgoing, throwing his arms in the air and flirting and generally being an exaggerated version of himself. 

Still, Alexander had his reservations about going himself; he was short, and as such he couldn’t take much alcohol before he became dead drunk. Also, Alexander told himself, also was the humiliation involving getting sloshed like that in public.

Mainly, in front of Lafayette’s friend, John.

Alexander thought of him as Lafayette’s friend and not his own because, while John and Alexander had talked time and again in their shared classes, John was intimidating. And amazing. And Alexander couldn’t handle the combination by himself.

John was of average height (meaning he still towered over Alexander’s measly frame) and slim body, as far as Alexander could tell. He worked at the aforementioned bar where Lafayette shared drinks and memories with his friends and soulmate, Hercules. His hands were covered with charcoal, pens, paint, and markers, suitable for the art major he was. His eyes, Alexander noticed with no small amount of appreciation, were pale green. However, attention might be taken from them by the smattering of gentle freckles adorning every inch of his face, smearing against orange and pink markers and pastels until one couldn’t tell which colors were John and which were for his art.

Aside from his appearance, one might take note of his outstanding attendance at college events and the like, whether they had food, alcohol, protests, or just a good time. John was the attention of a room, the joy of a party, and most probably Alexander’s true kryptonite.

Alexander was usually the student who paid rapt attention to the teacher, absorbing information like a sponge and breezing through courses with the mere force of his deep concentration. He took the most pride in his writing, never stopping to eat or sleep or sometimes, even to breathe.

John broke that concentration effortlessly, and without even knowing it.

And that was why it was so important for Alexander to avoid John, despite his closeness to Lafayette, Alexander’s closest friend and roommate. And that was why, Alexander thought to himself as he tried to force his mind into shutdown mode, he needed to work harder than ever to overcome this obstacle.

He had to.

\---

As it turned out, John was not very fond of being ignored.

“Alexander!” He called, as Alexander was trying to simultaneously walk and gather his things as he made a break for the door.

He reluctantly turned around, trying to turn his grimace into a grin. “John!” He said, grabbing John by the shoulders perhaps too forcefully, as John jumped a bit in surprise.

“Friend! I was thinking about you during class, thinking about how much I want to walk out of this classroom with you, just the two of us, but then I remembered that, regrettably, I need to greet my dear friend Lafayette, for he has a terrible tendency to worry should I not come straight to our room when I come from class. You see, he loves me so, and so I regretfully mustn’t address you after classes anymore so I can silence his fears. John, I bid you adieu!” Alexander said this suddenly and rapidly, trying to get it all out without really thinking about what he was saying.

The last thing he saw before fleeing the scene was John’s confusion-furrowed brows as he muttered, “Well, I guess that’s important.”

Blushing, Alexander sped out of the room and back to his dorm with a curt parting nod to John on his way out.

Alexander wished he had the power to be normal around John.

How could everyone else look at him half-attentively, chattering on without really understanding just who they were talking to? How many things John was? Alexander bottled up the thousands of poems in his head, all steadily saying John’s name, all yearning to be released.

Alexander wrote about politics and money and love; he was outspoken and brazen, unafraid to change his mind. So sure of himself, he would take pen to paper and win recognition across districts and leaders. Worlds away, they knew his name. Writing was Alexander’s outlet, a passageway to his truest emotions, words flowing harmoniously onto the page with effortless precision. Alexander wrote about everything.

He wanted to write about the one thing he needed to forget. Half-formed sentences lingered in the whirlwind of his thoughts, yearning to be read by John.

\---  
John,

I wish I could find it within me to express to you my deepest, sincerest affections. No man, nor indeed woman, has mine eye taken to so warmly. I wish, dear boy, I could show you, by actions rather than words, the sincerity of the love I harbor for you and no other. Your name I utter to give me strength. Your passionate eyes I imagine in awe upon me. Do I feel guilt for the soul mate I am betraying by loving you? If I do, take it as you will that it is nothing compared to the sea of adoration I cannot help but hold in your memory, deeper and more breathtaking than you could ever know.

Hamilton

\---

Lafayette forced his eyes away from Alexander’s desk for the umpteenth time. He was waiting for curiosity to overcome his guilt.

The object of his attention was a small sheet of parchment paper. Alexander had been toiling over it with an intense look all the night before, shooting Lafayette a sharp look over his shoulder every time he dared to get close.

The next day, Lafayette had woken up to find his friend stumbling with bloodshot eyes out of their dorm for a class, leaving the mystery letter unguarded.

He had to admit his interest was peaked. Normally, Alexander babbled on about his writing endeavors until Lafayette had to hide his head in a pillow to make the shorter man take a hint. The paper was suspicious and way too tempting.

Eventually, Lafayette couldn’t take it and grabbed the paper. It was-- a love letter?

The letter was addressed, “John.” Alexander talked about almost everyone he knew to Lafayette, usually either t0 complain about them (“Can you believe Jefferson really said that? Yeah! He’s a racist, homophobic-”) or to agree with them (“Washington could destroy Lee in a debate in five seconds flat!”). Lafayette had figured Alexander would tell him if he took an interest in anyone.

Clearly not, though, because apparently Alexander had a thing for John. Lafayette was happy that his friend wanted someone who wasn’t already in a relationship, but he couldn’t help but be puzzled.

He’d been trying to introduce the two properly for weeks, noting their similar outspoken ways and political views, but every time John was there, Alexander took the back seat in discussions, listening more than talking and generally acting unlike himself.

It had had Lafayette stumped before. After the letter, though, he realized that must just be the way Alexander acts when confronted with someone he likes.

Well. Lafayette intended to change that.

He dialed Hercules to ask him to probe John about Alexander, considering the two were roommates, though not telling his lover about Alexander’s feelings or the letter. It seemed a bit too private to be going around sharing, ignoring the fact that Lafayette shouldn’t have known about it in the first place.

Next, Lafayette took the letter, hesitated, then ripped off John’s name and pocketed the rest of it. He stretched and fiddled with his hair, only mildly guilty about taking the letter, since it was taken with good intentions, and then he waited for the next step of his new plan to unfold. He allowed himself to grin.

He had a class with John Laurens at two.

\---

In recent days, John had made it a new hobby of his to bug Alexander whenever possible, finding it a mix of troubling and amusing to watch the boy scurry away as if he was afraid of John, making some half-hearted excuse pertaining to a class or his friends or Lafayette.

John wondered, irrationally, just how close the two were, at the same time knowing full well of Lafayette’s dedication to Hercules. Of course Alexander was just friends, albeit intimately, with Lafayette. He knew it, but the thought of the two being more still ate at John’s patience, especially since Alexander seemed not to like him very much, shutting his mouth whenever John made an appearance.

John thought about this as he laid lazily on his bed, blowing on strands of his red hair to keep it from landing on his face. He had a class at two and nothing to do.

That was, until Hercules, his brawny-yet-motherly roommate, meandered into their shared bedroom, whistling something out of tune. “Hercules?” He asked as the man sat obtrusively on his bed, making the smaller man squirm.

Hercules ventured, “John, I have some questions for you about Alexander.” His posture was casual enough, resting his head on his hand, but Hercules’ tone meant business. Business John wanted nothing to do with.

John was beginning to panic. What could Hercules possibly want to ask about Alexander unless-unless he had figured out the nature of his feelings for Alexander from stolen glances at sunkissed skin or the way John listened to the rare word from Alexander like a kid listens for the ice cream truck during summer? Crap.

Hercules asked, “What’s his favorite color?” And, wow, how random was that? And why did Hercules even need to know that? Yet the man had his eyes fixed on John, waiting for an answer.

“Blue,” John replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to know. Well, he supposed that to him, it was.

At Hercules’ raised eyebrow, John (feeling the need to defend himself) added, “He wears it all the time. Heck, his eyes are blue, too, really dark blue. Jesus, Herc, don’t look at me like that!”

Hercules was giving him an odd look somewhere between skeptical and incredulous, even though he had asked the dumb question in the first place. Eventually, he barked out, “Later, John,” and headed right back out where he’d come from, chuckling in amusement all the way. John hardly knew what hit him.

Huffing, the redhead pulled out his laptop. Cruising the internet was certainly better than thinking over that odd discussion, and he still had an hour to kill before his class.

\---

Lafayette burst out laughing after Hercules recounted the story, making Hercules start chuckling again in turn. “Mon ami, how did we not see this earlier? This is gold!” Lafayette said between giggles.

Hercules, who had been initially confused by Lafayette’s strange request, realized quickly just what news the man wanted him to deliver. There had never been silent pining or hidden admiration for him and Lafayette-they just knew, their love true as the blue of the sky. He almost pitied John-if he and Hamilton really were soul mates, if they had that connection, there was something, perhaps an invisible force, preventing them from understanding.

In any case, Hercules certainly didn’t envy them.

“Oh, dear, I have to go! Class is soon. I’ll tell you how the rest of the plan goes. I hope you didn’t rile him up too much for me! Love you, Hercules, and thanks for your assistance,” Lafayette said, excited for a class for the first time in his life.

“Love you too, and anytime,” said Hercules.

The heartfelt smile in his voice when he said those words spoke volumes.

\---

John felt his knee bouncing with nervous energy. His conversation with Hercules had set him on edge; what if Hercules really had figured it out? Would Lafayette know? Would Alexander know?

The thoughts only made his knee bounce harder.

John twisted away from the door his eyes had been nervously flicking to when Alexander appeared and he hunched over, pretending to be immersed in the exciting world of his math textbook. Oh, wow, parabolas. Just what he needed to think about.

Fortunately, Lafayette set his stuff down on the next desk to John’s left. Rather unfortunately, though, he wore a smile unmatched in smugness, his dark eyes teeming with eagerness.

“Laf, did you accidentally drink too much coffee, ‘cause you look a little--weird,” John said, shrugging.

“Non, I just have something to show you,” Lafayette said, dipping his hands into his pockets and pulling out a sheet of paper.

John leaned forwards curiously. It read as a letter, clearly a profession of love towards its subject. John noted that the person who wrote the letter wrote it to someone who wasn’t their soul mate.

His chest jumped and he felt a spike of warmth when he read the name at the bottom. This letter was from Alexander Hamilton. His eyes hungrily scanned the top again, searching for a name, but there seemed to be a ripped piece where the name was. He turned his eyes to Lafayette in a question.

The man looked at the note and said, “He must have wanted to keep it a secret. I found it in the room we share.”

Ah. John understood, then. The “soul mate” which Alexander was betraying was Hercules by loving Lafayette, and the love letter was both a confession and an apology to Lafayette.

With a hollow chest and a constricted feeling with every new breath, John shoved the letter back towards Lafayette, who took it with a confused look towards John.

“Are you okay, mon ami?” Lafayette asked, concern reflecting openly in his voice. 

John couldn’t blame Lafayette. He hadn’t betrayed his relationship with Hercules, and it wasn’t his fault that Alexander was in love with him.

That didn’t mean John couldn’t still be bitter, though. Maybe at the world, for giving him a soul mate he didn’t choose, maybe at Lafayette, for being all-around amazing and good enough to deserve Alexander’s love, or maybe at himself, for falling for Alexander in the first place.

“I’m fine,” John managed, though his voice was suddenly rough and devoid of his previous playfulness. He just wanted to be alone.

Looking at Lafayette again to tell him that very thought, John realized something and paused. The Frenchman was blinking at John with innocent confusion. Lafayette had no idea Alexander was so clearly in love with him, what with leaving a note in their room explaining his love and the betrayal of Lafayette’s soul mate and gifting it anonymously. John had to tell him.

Just, the weight of it was too much, under Lafayette’s searching eyes and the declaration, Hey, Alexander isn’t in love with some soul mate he’s never met, he’s in love with you, and the silence of everything but the screaming of John’s thoughts getting worse and worse and drowning out an echoing room of noise with those cruel words, “Alexander loves Lafayette,” over and over and over and--

“Come with me,” sounded through white noise, cutting off those words of pain. John, lost and confused, felt a warm hand grasp his own, and then he was at the mercy of whoever was pulling him onward.

Alexander.

\---

Alexander felt himself prepare for another long math class, one of the requirements for law studies, for some reason. He would have to fix that once he was in a position to do so.

His thoughts shifted to earlier. Alexander had entered his dorm, only to realize he’d somehow misplaced his meticulously-crafted love letter to John, though, to be fair, he probably never would have handed it over, anyway.

Still, maybe he needed to invest in either more coffee or more sleep to keep these memory lapses from happening in the future. Really, he could have sworn he hadn’t moved it.

Well, no matter. Alexander had already memorized every word.

He was interrupted from those lovelorn thoughts by the very object of his affection. Hearing a gasp from a very familiar voice, Alexander looked over to see John on the brink of a breakdown.

Well. Clearly, someone had to help. Lafayette stood dumbly next to John, staring as if he had grown another head or some such nonsense.

Normally, Alexander had a policy with John; it firmly told him not to get involved. However, his instincts told him distinctly the opposite; the boy was about to completely embarrass himself in front of his peers.

Alexander found his body moving before his mind gave consent, grabbing John’s hand and saying with more constitution than he felt, “Come with me.”

John trailed behind Alexander, occasionally stumbling, as he led John out of the public eye and into the boys’ bathroom. Maybe not the ideal place to handle a breakdown, but less air to choke on, at least.

Alexander, still holding John’s hand, lowered him to a sitting position on the ground. John was hyperventilating, then, clutching Alexander’s hand like a lifeline, holding it desperately.

Then John choked something out through suffocating breaths. “What was that?” mumbled Alexander, his voice airy and light and caring. He settled a steadying hand on John’s shoulder and John leaned into the caress, eager for a gentle touch.

“I’m sorry,” said John, desperately apologetic. He punctuated the words by holding Alexander’s hand tighter in his own trembling one.

Alexander felt his resolve to avoid this beautiful boy break, shatter into pieces so tiny that Alexander was sure he’d never be able to turn his eye from John again in the face of John’s smooth freckled face, which was normally wearing good humor, crumpled in anguish, broken in adversity.

“What for?” Alexander returned, wondering what John had ever done to him but introduce him to the acute ache in his heart which simultaneously pleased him and pained him. Yet even that, John had done by accident.

John sobbed and said, “For hating that you’re in love with Lafayette.”

Alexander balked, because for all his thoughts sometimes seemed to lead him towards countless different paths, he had never expected those words to come out of John’s mouth, even in his most vulnerable state.

“You--what?” Alexander managed.

John took a shuddering breath. “I saw the letter you wrote. The one--you wrote to--to Lafayette. Telling him you--you loved him, and I just felt so--so bad, because I know he already has a soul mate he lov--loves,” he said, hedging a bit on the exact reason he was holding onto Alexander for dear life. 

Maybe John should have stopped doing that when he realized just what he was doing, but Alexander’s warmth felt so nice and warm and alluring. 

For once, John was looking up into Alexander’s honey eyes as the shorter man processed the information he’d just been given.

Apparently, his love letter had been broadcast to John, but somehow mistaken for being addressed to Lafayette? And John apparently was so empathetic he would break down in a bathroom because he thought Alexander would never be happy with his true soul mate. Wow.

Alexander allowed himself to laugh softly, taking John’s face with tender care and meeting his sorrowful green eyes with mirth. “John,” Alexander started, and said the only thing worth saying.

“I never have and never will be in love with Lafayette.”

“Oh.”

\---

Somehow, they managed to sort the whole mess out. Alexander gave his roommate a stern talking to concerning other people’s privacy and thievery of personal items in the future and managed to convince John the letter had been to a family member and was merely taken out of context.

Worst, or perhaps best of all, though, Alexander’s plan to keep John out of the already-convoluted equation of his life was firmly thrown out the window. For good.

It seemed the presence of John would become a permanent fixture of his day, along with Alexander’s sureness the sun would rise each morning and fall each night. Not that he found he much minded being distracted by the shape of John’s lips while he talked or the mischievous smirk John wore which Alexander too often found himself involved with.

Alexander found himself enjoying the simple happiness John gave him, found a little more brightness in everything.

“Mon petit Alex, do you want to do something for your twentieth birthday? It’s coming soon, and, as they say, it’s never too early to be prepared!”

“Crap.”

\---

Alexander had just about forgotten about not only his own birthday, but his own soul mate as well. 

It was one cold winter night, the wind howling outside, in Alexander and Lafayette’s dorm room when the issue was brought up. Hercules and John were over as well, and the four were making a game night of it. They were playing Trivial Pursuit, which Alexander was about to win by a landslide. John was coming in second, grinning every time Alexander leaned over to whisper an answer in his ear.

“That’s not fair,” Lafayette said for the millionth time that night, “John has no more right to know the answer than the rest of us!”

Hercules nodded in agreement. He and Lafayette had taken to sharing answers as well, but the two were no match for Alexander and John’s combined wit, seeing as Alexander spent nearly all the time he didn’t spend writing on soaking up the news and, yes, trivia shows, and John had seen just about every movie the world had to offer.

“You guys are doing it, too!” Alexander said in self-defense, glancing nervously at John.

“Only because you did it first!” Lafayette said, not really angry, but exasperated and tired. Hercules touched him reassuringly on the shoulder.

“Guys, guys!” John cut in, unruffled, “I say we take five, make some cocoa, and put the games away. We can watch a movie or something, Lafayette’s got plenty of those.”

“Well, I do need to finish writing something,” Alexander piped up.

“No more essays, Alexander,” John warned, already sifting through Lafayette’s movie collection, “you can help with the drinks. Go ahead, shoo.”

Alexander turned red, embarrassed, and tugged Lafayette by the arm, saying, “Come on, you help, too.”

The man let himself be dragged by Alexander, trying to resist the urge to meddle more with the friendship between John and Alexander. Lafayette almost felt bad for that, he did, but the fact that at least Alexander had become more comfortable around John due to the letter incident prevented him from really feeling guilty.

All Lafayette wanted was a way to make his two friends tell each other the truth. It seemed, though, that was too much to ask for, Lafayette considered as he took in the sight of Alexander’s red cheeks and dark eyes which trailed the floor.

When the two got to the kitchen, Alexander began choosing mugs for the four of them. “Do you want this one, Lafayette?” He asked, waving a decorative mug in front of the taller man’s face.

“It’s fine, Alexander,” Lafayette replied, not even glancing at the mug, but sending calculated glances towards his shorter friend.

Alexander shrugged and pulled it out, followed by three more mugs. “This is his favorite,” he mumbled under his breath to one of the mugs and replaced hot cocoa for the coffee in the coffee machine.

Lafayette leaned a hand against the countertop. “So I’ve heard your birthday is coming up,” he said.

Alexander showed no sign of acknowledgement except for a tensing in his shoulders and the fumbling of his hands as he nearly dropped the cup of water he’d been holding. “So I’ve heard,” he muttered, not meeting Lafayette’s eyes.

“And, I’ve been wondering what you plan on doing about him,” Lafayette ventured.

Alexander’s eyes widened and he pressed “start” on the coffee machine before looking desperately at Lafayette. “I don’t know who you mean,” he said, though his panicked expression told otherwise.

Lafayette had found, in his twenty-one years of life, that sometimes silence proves more useful than words. So he merely waited for Alexander to speak again, raising his brow in disbelief.

“Okay, fine. I just--I don’t know what to do, how to--how to tell him when I have a soul mate somewhere out there, and--and so does he. It’ll fall apart once he turns twenty and we’ll forget all about each other, and--and I don’t want that, Lafayette,” Alexander said, smiling sadly, angrily, resignedly, and tangling a hand roughly through his shoulder-length, chestnut hair, yanking as if the pain would ground him, prevent him from feeling this way about John. He was his John, not his John.

Lafayette considered telling Alexander that it wasn’t impossible he and John were soul mates. As he looked at his trembling shoulders and azure eyes which were struggling to hold back tears, though, Lafayette felt himself sympathize with Alexander. He imagined how much the smaller man must be fighting the hope, and suddenly Lafayette couldn’t make false promises, empty reassurances. He didn’t want Alexander to hurt any more than he had to. So Lafayette simply held his arms open, looked sadly into Alexander’s eyes, which were wracked with grief, and said, “Oh, mon ami.”

Alexander leaned in to the embrace, taking it with open arms as Lafayette patted his back and rubbed gentle circles there. Alexander could think of nothing but John, blinking slowly, staring intoxicatingly at him, and then turning his back, and Lafayette, the brother he wished he had had growing up, giving Alexander the power to stand on his own two legs.

Eventually, once Alexander had managed to reign in most of his tears, he wiped his eyes, sniffed wetly, and said, “We should bring them the cocoa, they’re probably wondering where we are. Here, carry two mugs? I don’t want to get tears in them.”

He spoke quietly, slowly, his voice nasally and croaking and nothing like the confident loud-mouth Lafayette wished he had appreciated more while he was still there. Instead, Alexander spoke as if all his stamina had been drained and there was nothing left but a boy who was lost without the power of his words, his greatest weapon. He was nothing but a child, stranded in the middle of a store without a parent to guide him. Lafayette’s heart squeezed painfully for him.

Lafayette nodded with a quiet “Of course, ami,” and took the cups into the living room, where John and Hercules were sitting with the movie stuck on the opening credits.

They passed out drinks and pressed play. When Alexander didn’t pipe up once to criticize the movie or point out some random detail which would be crucial to the plot later, Lafayette saw John look over at him worriedly.

John seemingly recognized what the bloodshot eyes and tender rubbing of the forehead meant and took the hand Alexander was using to rub himself free of the head ache. He pulled it down tenderly, glancing through his eyelashes at Alexander, who gave him a small, but happy grin, and began massaging Alexander’s throbbing temples himself. Alexander closed his eyes, relishing the feeling, and leaned back against the sofa, shoulders finally relaxing as he melted at John’s touch. A purely friendly touch, he reminded himself, as Lafayette had done before, but feeling so good all the same.

Lafayette himself saw the exchange, saw the flush on John’s cheeks as he pretended to care about the movie even as his eyes flickered over every other second to beam at Alexander’s blissful face. The Frenchman had zero doubt, then, the nature of their relationship. He made up his mind to consider fate cruel in its proceedings to split these two apart, these two people who made each other happy, as Hercules made Lafayette.

\---

“Well, well, Aaron Burr, sir.” Aaron sighed as he heard the telltale deliberate steps of Alexander Hamilton entering his place of work. Again.

“Alexander, are you actually here for coffee this time?” He asked. Usually, the shorter man ordered some ungodly concoction even Aaron couldn’t stand after working at the coffee shop for nearly a year and sat at the nearest table, making passive-aggressive comments about Aaron’s smile or his clothes or his words and occasionally making fun of some of the more quirky customers. But mostly, he poked fun at Aaron.

Maybe Aaron should’ve thought twice before running for Student Council President against Alexander their sophomore year of high school, but really, it had been six years since then, and man, could Alexander hold a grudge.

Though they talked on a regular basis, Aaron would be hard-pressed to call them friends. And, sure, they used to have petty fights in high school, but they weren’t really rivals, either; however, Aaron (unfortunately) knew too much about Alexander to call them strangers or acquaintances. They coexisted in a weird mix of all three, Aaron had decided, never really knowing how to label their relationship.

“I’m always here for coffee! It’s my lifeblood these days,” Alexander said, scandalized.

Aaron rolled his eyes and began making Alexander’s regular sugary nightmare automatically (an iced Ristretto; 9 shots with breve, 5 pumps of vanilla, 8 pumps of caramel, and 5 packets of sugar in, shaken).

Alexander was humming something random, bouncing his feet and fidgeting with a straw wrapper left on the counter, all nervous energy. Aaron recognized it as something he did when his head was far away from what was happening around him and reasoned that Alexander probably had something big on his mind, resolving not to bother him with pointless chatter if Alexander wasn’t in the mood.

Aaron finished the drink and set it down lightly next to Alexander, who eyed it critically, nodded to himself, and began drinking it with vigor.

“Hey, Burr,” Alexander began, giving Aaron a slight surprise.

“Why do you always call me that?” Aaron interrupted, causing Alexander to roll his eyes.

“Because,” he said, poking Aaron on the nose with his straw, “You haven’t earned the right to be called by your first name yet.”

“And that right would be?” Aaron inquired.

“When you learn how to get into a fight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, get angry! Show some emotion! All I ever see you do is smile pretty for the customers, roll your eyes, and complain! Don’t you care about anything?”

 

Aaron’s mind flashed to a girl with bouncy, black curls framing her face; him serving coffee to harried mothers bustling along with their noisy kids, who would smile at him gratefully as he handed them their coffee; his parents’ proud faces when he showed him his college acceptance letter. Heck, even working in the coffee shop on slow Thursday mornings under an overcast sky, Alexander typing away at his laptop and shooting him funny faces every time a customer made some ridiculous demand (the things people do for morning coffee).

“Maybe I’m just good at hiding my emotions,” Aaron suggested.

Alexander busted up laughing, leaning his elbows on the table to keep from losing his balance. Gasping, he said, “You’re full of crap, Burr, you know that?”

Aaron just smiled. “So, what were you saying earlier?” he asked, immediately sobering the shorter boy up.

Alexander sat a little straighter, face serious. Which meant Aaron couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “I need some advice,” Alexander said, pained.

“What do you need?” Aaron said, surprised someone as prideful as Alexander would say such a thing.

“Well, I--tell me, how old are you, Burr?”

Aaron gave Alexander a strange look, but answered, “Twenty-one.”

Alexander looked down and said, “So you’ve met your soul mate, then?”

Ah. “Theodosia, remember? Weren’t you paying attention when I told you?”

Looking sheepish, Alexander twirled a lock of his hair and said, “Right. May have been out of commission that day. See, I--well, it’s not important. Anyway, did you already know her? Before your twentieth birthday?”

“A couple weeks before.”

“And--did you know?” Alexander asked.

“Know what?” Aaron replied, becoming frustrated at his own lack of understanding of Alexander’s questions.

“Like, was there a--a ‘click’ or some connection when you met her? Did you want her to be your soul mate, or--or did you feel differently about her after you found out you couldn’t lie to her anymore?” Alexander asked, looking less and less calm with every new word he spoke.

“Alexander, relax,” Aaron said, “I guess, subconsciously, I wanted her to be. Some selfish part of me wanted her all to myself. But being soul mates wasn’t the most important part. Right before I turned twenty, Theodosia told me that if we weren’t soul mates, she was still willing to give us a shot, because we loved each other. She said fate had nothing to do with it. We were too strong to be split apart by destiny, she said. It was just a lucky coincidence, or maybe fate, we turned out to be soul mates, too.”

Alexander sat back in his seat, stunned. “Wow, uh, thanks--Aaron,” he said, looking like Aaron had just given him the secrets of the universe.

And right then, Aaron understood. “Alexander. You asked me because--are you in a relationship?” Aaron asked, genuinely curious. Who could put up with Alexander for more than two hours at a time?

Alexander’s face turned red and he raised his eyebrows, scratching his fingernails on the table. “No! It’s not, not like that! Jesus, Burr, we’re just friends!”

Aaron raised his own eyebrows. “Crush, then?” He asked, causing Alexander to hunch in on himself even more and his eyes to dart around for eavesdroppers.

Finally, he leaned in and stage-whispered, “Fine, I’m only telling you because you’re my friend,” and okay, Aaron guessed he could accept that at this point in the conversation, “but yeah. Listen, don’t tell him I said this, his name’s John. You know, the cute guy with the freckles in our Economics class?”

Aaron did, in fact, know a “John from their Economics class,” but he knew him better as “that obnoxious artist who comes in to illustrate the ceiling during afternoons and leaves paint everywhere for Aaron to clean up.” But either way.

“Not sure I’d use those exact words, but yeah. So, you gonna tell him?” Aaron asked, causing Alexander to jump back as if burned.

“Are you kidding? Don’t you know what’s going to happen in, like, a month?” Alexander asked, incredulous.

Aaron took a moment to think. No big holidays for the next two months or so, no Presidential Elections, hopefully not some apocalypse only Alexander had managed to discover. Aaron shrugged.

Alexander sent him a hurt look. “My twentieth birthday! I’m talking about the most important day of my life as I’ve known it! I know your birthday, Mr. June nineteenth!” Alexander said.

Oh. So Alexander was worried about finding a soul mate besides this John while he was still in love. “Alexander,” Aaron said, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “even if he’s not your soul mate, I’m sure you’ll be very happy with whoever’s your real soul mate.”

Alexander gave him a look of panic, which quickly morphed into a faraway desire, despair, anger, and finally, dreary acceptance. It wasn’t a look that suited him well. Alexander was fierce passion or mindless enthusiasm or unstoppable determination, not--this.

“I guess you’re right,” Alexander said, and laughed dryly. “Even if I was willing to test fate, who’s to say he would do the same?”

“You could always ask him,” Aaron suggested.

“I’m scared of his answer,” Alexander told Aaron with that despairing look in his wide eyes, ever the open book.

Alexander was the polar opposite of Aaron. Then again, maybe that was why they were friends in the first place. “Look, Alexander, when have you not done something you wanted to do before because the result scared you?”

 

Alexander made a vague protesting sound in the back of his throat and hissed, “But Burr, this is important!”

“Alexander, I’ve found you to do a lot of unexpected crap in my life, but never once did I think you’d just sit there silently while someone you love is thinking that you don’t care enough about them to ask them to stay. No matter what may happen or who you won’t be able to lie to come your birthday, if you’re in love with this John, you need to be brave enough to tell him the truth. Or don’t you think you’re strong enough to overcome destiny?”

That was the final nail in the coffin for Alexander, who, with shining eyes, downed his drink, threw it with a crash into the trash bin, and took the hand Aaron still had rested on his shoulder, throwing both their hands up in the air with a shout of victory.

“Aaron Burr, sir, you are an inspiration,” Alexander said once he had calmed down.

“I’m glad you finally recognize my greatness,” Aaron said dryly, to which Alexander threw his head back and laughed, elbowing him almost painfully.

“Well, I’ve gotta run, you know, so much to do, so little time to do it. Tell Theo I give her my best wishes!”

“Will do,” Aaron said as Alexander bounced out of the shop, doorbells jingling as he made an exit.

Well, it could have just been the caffeine, but Aaron could have sworn Alexander was in a better mood when he left the shop than when he entered. That had to be a first with Alexander.

Aaron Burr, master of emotional suppression, couldn’t help but crack a grin as he prepared yet another ridiculous coffee order for a moody old woman in a fur coat.

\---

John was sitting on his bed cross-legged, pesky orange locks of hair tied back with a blue ribbon, wearing nothing but his pajamas and working with charcoal and paint to make a large portrait of Alexander. He had reasoned to himself that what Alexander didn’t know couldn’t hurt him and commenced with the literal biggest guilty pleasure of his life.

So, when John heard a knock at the door, he scrambled to find somewhere to hide the painting and ended up shoving the massive tribute to his love under the bed. Well, at least Alexander wasn’t likely to look there.

John had just enough time to do this before a very familiar figure walked into the room. Alexander. Of course.

“John, I have a very important--what are you doing?” Alexander asked, seeing charcoal and paint and an easel, but nothing to paint on.

“I--uh--body art!” John said, hurriedly painting a sunflower on his right hand with the yellow he had been using to get just the right glint in Alexander’s eyes.

“Ah,” Alexander said, probably unconvinced but urgent enough to overlook John’s lie, “well, I have a question for you.”

“Ask away,” John said, chuckling nervously.

Alexander took a steadying breathe. “If you were--in love with someone, but your twentieth birthday was coming soon and you were about to find out who your soul mate was, would you be willing to pursue a relationship with that person anyway? Or would you drop everything to be with your soul mate?” Alexander asked, glancing shyly up at John every so often, then ducking his gaze again.

Well. Considering that John only wanted one person and had for a few months by then, John said, “I’d take it by the moment if I were you. You know, don’t let the possibility the guy--er--person, isn’t your soul mate, prevent you from having fun with them for as long as you still want ‘ta be with them. Then, if you meet your soul mate and decide you want that person more, make a good clean break,” John noticed Alexander wince at the word, “and start anew. Alexander, just do what you wanna do.”

When John finished speaking, he noticed Alexander sitting slack-jawed on his bed, his brows raised just enough to make John look away from that intense expression, trying to will away the heat in his cheeks.

After a millenium of silence, Alexander spoke. “Wow, that’s. The best advice I’ve gotten all day. Thanks, John,” he said, brushing his hand against John’s in what was probably meant as an innocent, kind gesture of friendly support, but sent a shiver down his spine.

“No problem,” John managed, pleased at Alexander’s reaction.

“By the way,” Alexander said as his grateful smile turned to a playful one, “what were you really doing when I came in?”

“I, uh, it’s a secret!” John said, and took Alexander by the shoulders, secretly relishing the feeling as he pushed the shorter man out of the room.

Alexander let himself be pushed, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Something I shouldn’t know about?” He asked.

“No! It’s, um, a surprise! For your birthday,” John said, wondering how he was going to explain that to Alexander when the time came.

“Well, Mr. Laurens, I’m looking forward to my painting, then,” said Alexander as he turned away from John, casting him one last humorous look as he left.

John closed the door behind him, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. He would just have to make Alexander some other painting for his birthday. He certainly couldn’t show him the painting of himself. It was--too revealing. John hadn’t painted any of his other friends, and besides, he figured he might see Alexander differently from other people. Rose-colored glasses, so to speak.

John crawled over to his bed and slid the painting out from underneath it. Then he gathered his paintbrushes, charcoal, and paints. He knew the perfect place to go to stop these possibly incriminating interruptions from happening again.

\---

John stepped into Coffee Express, regretting his decision not to pack his supplies in a bag or something; the dozen or so paint tubes he was carrying were getting more awkward to hold by the second.

With a passing nod to the dull-looking guy who always seemed to be behind the counter, John took a seat in his regular spot, noting the lack of people anywhere in the store. He guessed it was because most regular people came by in the morning to get their fix. John figured he was already in too deep by then, though, so he dropped his stuff on the table and walked up to the counter. The guy he’d noticed earlier was looking at him with an added note of interest, weirdly enough.

“I’ll have a--Caramel Macchiato,” John decided. 

The guy just kept looking at him, though, and John was starting to get unnerved. “You okay, dude?” He asked, waving a hand in front of the guy’s face.

The guy-Aaron Burr, judging from the boxy nametag on his uniform, eventually cleared his throat and said, “John, right?”

And, wow, John hadn’t thought this could get creepier, but somehow, it just did. “Do I--know you?” He asked, mentally preparing to grab his phone to call Herc if worse came to worst.

“Sorry,” the man said, apparently taking in John’s guarded expression, “I had a run in with Alexander earlier. He mentioned you in passing.”

John let himself relax at this. If this Aaron Burr knew Alexander, he couldn’t be so bad. “You could just tell him, you know,” Aaron said, and maybe John shouldn’t have been so hasty to label this guy.

“What?” John asked, wondering if he was so obvious even a stranger could pick up on it.

Aaron gestured to somewhere behind John. Curious, he turned around. There, in plain sight of anyone who might walk past it, was the portrait of Alexander. Hurriedly, John moved to turn it upside down. “Okay, okay, I see your point,” John said, “but--what if he’s not my soul mate? Would he even care about me anymore?”

Aaron looked at John with a look which might be incredulous if he thought the man was capable of showing emotion. “Look, John, I don’t know what kind of guy you are, but anyone who can’t see the frankly stupid look on Alexander’s face when he thinks about you is about as stupid as he is.”

John didn’t know whether to be offended by the fact that Aaron insulted him, Alexander, or both. Seeing the conflicted look on John’s face, Aaron took the opportunity to wave John out of his workplace. “Go, John, get out of here. Shoo,” he said.

John, sensing he wasn’t welcome anymore, got his stuff and left, saying, “I’m gonna tell Alexander he has a bad taste in friends!”

Aaron just chuckled and continued scrubbing at the counter, shaking his head in wonder at how Alexander had managed to fall in love with someone just as dense and reckless as he was.

\---

It was finally the day. Alexander was pacing nervously in the bathroom, wondering what to wear, how to act, when Lafayette came bursting in, startling him out of his own head. “Mon ami, you need to get out of there, it’s been thirty minutes!” He said.

When Lafayette got a good look at Alexander, though, he took pity and said, “It will be fine, mon ami, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Trust me, you’ll know the feeling.”

Alexander nodded, too stuck in his own head to use words. Finally, he exited the bathroom, grabbed his textbooks, and left to go to the class he had in ten minutes, the one where John was probably already sitting, his bronze-colored hair standing all on its own, his green eyes searching for him to wish Alexander a happy birthday-Alexander took a deep breath. He needed to be calm for this!

When Alexander arrived, true to his imagination, John’s eyes landed on him and he smiled, gesturing him over. Alexander inched to John slowly. When he got there, John said, “I,” but was quickly cut off by Alexander’s finger brushing over his lips to quiet him.

He said, “John, look. No matter what happens or who I’m told to be with, it’s you. It always has been, and it is now. I love you, and I don’t need some pact of honesty to show it. I won’t let the universe boss me around, and--and…”

Alexander trailed off when John grinned, accentuating the freckles on his cheeks and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Alexander,” he said, and Alexander jumped a little because he sounded more gentle than usual, sweetly pronouncing his name to give Alexander a dizzy, lightheaded feeling, “I’m so glad.”

And then John stood, taking Alexander by the hands, and led the two out the doors to the classroom, and John set an unresisting Alexander against the wall, took a lock of Alexander’s dark, unruly hair gently in his grasp, and slowly leaned in to kiss him.

They stayed like that for a long while, each relishing the other’s embrace, until they broke apart, giggling breathlessly. And they didn’t need the universe to tell them. They already knew.

“I’m so glad you’re my soulmate.”

“Me, too.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make this longer, but it just wasn't happening. Oh, well. Forgive me if it's not very good, it's my first fan fiction. Review if you're so inclined!


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